


The Marauders' Tales of Mischief and Magic

by booooooooooksss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Moony - Freeform, Moony Wormtail Padfoot and Prongs, Padfoot - Freeform, Prongs - Freeform, Wormtail - Freeform, jily, marauders fic, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:45:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booooooooooksss/pseuds/booooooooooksss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An origin fic detailing the Marauders in their prime, from the forming of their friendship to important discoveries to mishevious misdeeds. Years 1-7 at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. Eventual Jily and possible eventual Wolfstar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Though I have read the series many, many times, I have not yet explored the Pottermore articles, which probably yield more information on the marauders and their separate pasts than the books themselves. As this is, please do not correct me on something I cannot have learned through the books. That being said, feel free to contradict whatever mistakes I may have made that differ from the series interpretation of things. Thank you!  
> Also, Jily and Wolfstar (wolfstar may be only slight and never truly realized by Remus or Sirius until later in their lives, not yet decided{comment what you would like if you wish}) will both appear later on in this fanfiction, as is canonical.

Four boys stood together but apart on the platform called Nine and Three Quarters. Four sets of parents bid their now friendless sons goodbye, wishing the best for them in the school year. Soon, though they did not know it yet, they would become inseparable, closer than the best of friends. As a new world erupted around them, as their former lives turned to dust, each of their parents left them a final sentence, a feeble reminder of their past, before their new life began.

_"Make us proud," a tall and handsome but haughty looking man told his identical son, as his strikingly similar looking wife nodded sternly at his side. The boy watched his parents with barely concealed boredom and impatience, but listened nonetheless, as an smaller and thinner boy, who could only be his brother, tugged at his sleeve in a failing attempt to catch his attention._

_"Good luck!" a wide, short woman said, almost pleadingly, to her similarly wide and short son, who smiled reassuringly in a nervous kind of way before giving a her brief side hug and disappearing into the crowd with his trunk. Moments later, he dashed back to his mother and enveloped her in a bear hug while she promptly burst into tears, sobbing into his shoulder._

_"Have fun," a thin, older woman with graying hair told her boy lovingly as she knelt to stroke his cheek, smiling softly. The boy, obviously enjoying his mother's affection but on a platform filled with his peers, pretended to be embarrassed and turned away, grinning. He gave his tall, graying father a quick hug and responded to his mother's reprimanding look by kissing her on the cheek as his father ruffled his hair and chuckled._

_"Be careful," a lanky and thin man commanded of the boy before him in a stern voice, though with a expression full of apprehension and pity. His scrawny and nervous looking son grinned feebly at him, stretching a long white scar gashed across his nose. His kindly looking mother with tear tracks down her cheeks correctly identified this fearful, hesitant attempt of the boy's to recognize whether or not he had done something wrong and quickly wrapped him in a bear hug, shaking with renewed sobs, dreading ever letting go._

_But mustn't we all let go, eventually?_

~

//REMUS//

Remus Lupin, dragging his trunk through a crowded but stationary train full of students waiting to depart for school, realized he just could not keep himself from dwelling on his father's words.

"Be careful," his dad had said. There was no 'I love you' or 'I'll miss you', because obviously, he wouldn't. His father saw him as something that was his duty, his responsibility, Remus was the monster that had to be controlled and it was his dad's job to do it, and his dad's job to take care of him, and nothing more. Like it was Remus's fault.

His mother understood, he knew, remembering her expression after his father essentially told him goodbye. She knew it wasn't him that wanted this. He just wanted to be a boy. And he would finally get a chance to learn magic, and go to school, but not without a fresh burden his father had so carefully reminded him of.

He carefully navigated around a burly girl wearing Slytherin robes and a nasty expression and squeezed his way into an equally crowded compartment. He sighed. He needed to sit, alone. He needed to think.

He let his thoughts wander as he pulled his luggage through the train. Sometimes, he recalled, Remus would look up from reading a book or painting a piece of parchment and find his father sitting nearby, staring at him with an absent and sad look on his lined face. Much too lined for his age.

He had not asked for this. He simply had not.

He remembered, a week from today, when his father had pulled him aside after breakfast, where an excited Remus had ranted about the opportunities of the castle and the Houses.

"Remus," Lyall had said somberly. "It is strictly because of the headmaster that you are allowed to go, you know that, of course."

Remus had nodded.

Lyall continued, "You know what you are. It is extremely fortunate he is such a forgiving man, and allows you to continue your studies the way you could not at home."

Again, Remus nodded.

"Therefore, I know you will understand if I tell you that you are not to make friends at this school."

At this, the eleven-year-old had simply stared up blankly.

"Yes. There is too great a chance rhar they could discover your secret. Everything Mr. Dumbledore has worked for would be in vain. You must promise me, now. You are going to Hogwarts simply for education, and nothing more."

His heart had sank. Then Hogwarts would just be as lonely as it would at home. No one to talk to, just learning and full moons. 

His father's voice began to thrum in his head.

"Be careful."

He remembered his first transformation, alone in the cellar, waiting for his skin to stretch as his father had told him it would. Looking over diagrams of wolves, studying the moon, watching as his dad put the spells on the-

He stopped suddenly in his tracks in the middle of a populated compartment. He and the rest of those around him watched as two boys, one larger than the other but the smaller one compensating with more noise, had a screaming match before the passageway to the next compartment.

Through this distraction, the engine started to rumble, but Remus had barely noticed.

"-AND I PUT THEM RIGHT THERE, ON THE FLOOR, WHERE EVERYONE COULD SEE THEM-," the shorter shouted, brandishing something in his hand.

"THEY'RE BLOODY GLASSES! THEY'RE  _CLEAR!_ HOW THE RUDDY HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO SEE THEM THROUGH ALL THE OTHER RUBBISH AROUND HERE-"

"HOW THE RUDDY HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO SEE AT  _ALL_ , THANKS TO YOU-"

The taller boy grew even more furious at this remark, gesticulating wildly with his hands many things he could apparently not fit into a coherent sentence before deciding to use his height to his advantage. He stood tall and tried forcing the other boy back, puffing his chest own out and jabbing a finger at the other's. The shorter boy would not budge.

"C'mon, Sirius-" a small girl tried, stepping forward and putting her hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off angrily and prepared himself to shout again.

The loud voices making his head hurt so soon after the full moon, Remus sighed quietly and said, in a soft voice he was sure would go unnoticed in the commotion, "Excuse me. You're blocking the way."

Contrary to his belief, the room turned silent and both boys stopped abruptly on their screaming match and turned towards Remus as if they had just realized what they had been doing. Remus's cheeks turned pink at the sudden attention of everyone in the compartment.

"Oh," Sirius said. "Hey, I am. Sorry, mate. You too, James." He stepped aside, clapping Remus on the back as he went. Remus watched as he took James's glasses from him and tapped his wand to them, muttering, "Reparo." James took them back, fitted them on his face, and grinned, grasping Sirius's hand. "No biggie, Black." Then, after a tense moment of the two staring at each other, the two of them burst out laughing. _Odd_ , Remus thought to himself as he carefully stepped out of the compartment, lugging his trunk with him. That really was weird. He looked out the window, surprised to find the train moving, and briefly regretted not taking a last look at his home. Ignoring this thought, he settled down into a mercifully empty compartment and opened his book.

//SIRIUS//

"Oi," Sirius called to James, once they could breathe enough, their laughter having subsided. "Let's find another compartment, how bout it?"

James looked up from wiping his newly repaired glasses, a faint grin still on his face. It slipped off, however, when he noticed the eyes of everyone in the train car still avidly following the two boys' actions.

"Alright then." He put them back on his face, looking at Sirius with a confident smile. Again, it diminished when he looked around. "Hey, where's that other boy gone?"

"Up there, hasn't he?" Sirius replied, jabbing a thumb towards the passageway behind him.

 James turned towards the door. "Okay, so why don't we go and-"

Suddenly, Sirius's eyes narrowed as he too looked that way, following the movements of a tall girl with long, sleek caramel hair and round amber eyes. She was tall and thin and her nose, cheekbones, and chin were patrician, and she surveyed her surroundings with disdainful looks. Sirius knew this was not from a general dislike of things but rather from inherited looks. James noticed Sirius's discomfort, and the two stared as she spotted the two boys and began to move towards them with haste, her mouth set.

Sirius seemed to mutter something under his breath and sighed. "Right," he grabbed James arm and turned to face the opposite part of the train, towards the front. "We're going this way then."

He attempted to drag James before the smaller boy complied, and the two of them exited that compartment lost in the stream of students. "Sirius, why're we-"

"Uh," Sirius interrupted anxiously, searching for an excuse. "We're- if we head this way, the trolley lady gets to us sooner, doesn't she?" he explained quickly, not pausing in his stride.

James stopped in his tracks, debating whether or not it was worth it, then jogged to catch up with a grin. "Suppose you're right. This is good, isn't it?" he asked, indicating a near empty cabin whose only occupant sat facing the window.

Sirius's eyes darted this way and that. Finally, "Why not?" he replied. He plopped down onto a seat and spread out lazily, his arms lolling over the sides. He stared at the ceiling. As he did so, his father's face came swimming into view.

"Make us proud," it said, an ugly sneer growing before his mother's replaced it. "Why can't you be more like Regulus? Wear the Black name proudly, not with shame! Do not disappoint me, Sirius."

Sirius stood suddenly, surprising James, who sat on the ground struggling with his Wizard's Chess set and looked up, concerned. "You alright?"

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm good." He sunk back down, staring out the window. Don't disappoint her, she says. Make them proud? Yeah, right. Even  _if_  he gets sorted into Slytherin, the only "acceptable" house, what then? Put up with his cousins sneering at him and commenting about his behavior, just like when they visit? As if those brief periods of time when they came for dinner weren't torture enough. And if the Hat _doesn't_ put him in Slytherin? Well, then, he was as good as dead. He couldn't even imagine the Howlers sent the next day. He groaned. The Howlers that would be sent in front of everyone. Whatever happened, there was no way out. Hogwarts, far from being an escape from his home life as he had dreamed it would be for so long, was sure to be hell.

He sighed. At least he would have Andromedra. Then he groaned, because earlier this week Drommie had given him a bollocking on how to behave at Hogwarts (which, above all, included 'getting into Slytherin) (not because Drommie was prejudiced, but rather she knew his parents were). Stubbornly, Sirius had acted as anyone who knew him would expect him to. He had retorted several crude, well placed insults, which eventually accumulated into a large row. They were not currently on speaking terms. Or Sirius had thought. Her behavior earlier contradicted that.

In all his gloom and fear for the upcoming Sorting, he hadn't noticed James sit across from him, abandoning the chess pieces, all of whom were now shouting profanities and such at him. The other boy ignored them, and leaned back contentedly in his seat, eyes closed, hands behind his head, and legs stretched out before him on the floor. James seemed to realize that Sirius didn't want to talk, but was simply there by him. After such a short period of knowing Sirius, James seemed to feel what he needed. Or maybe James was just tired.

The compartment door slid open ten minutes later, by which time James and Sirius were immersed in an intense talk about Quidditch, and a thin, pale boy walked in.

James kept up his rant about the newly named Chudley Cannons, who crushed their opponent in the playoff game to enter the International Championships, but whose Seeker had presumably lost an eye. Sirius encouraged this flow of talk with nods and "Yeah"s, but the whole time was watching the exchange between the red-headed girl in the corner and the sallow faced boy.

"You'd better be in Slytherin," the boy said, with an eager air.

James seemed to have noticed Sirius had not been listening, for he too turned around to watch the conversation once he heard the boy's tone lift. "Slytherin?" James interrupted, a sneer taking the place of his grin. "Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" he directed at Sirius.

Sirius grimaced. "My whole family have been in Slytherin.

"Blimey," James remarked with surprise. "And I thought you seemed alright!"

At this, Sirius grinned. Who cares what house he's in. In the presence of others, his parents' voices seemed to fade in importance. He'd find friends. He'd make friends. This was _Hogwarts_  he was going to, after all.

"Maybe I'll break the tradition," he said, thinking of his mother's reaction if she heard him say those words. She deserved it, the crazy old bat. "Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

James raised an imaginary sword. “’Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!’ Like my dad.”

The pale boy opposite the red head made a tiny insulting noise in the back of his throat. Immediately, James turned on him, and Sirius felt compelled to do the same. “Got a problem with that?” James asked.

“No,” the boy said, pushing a curtain of greasy black hair out of his eyes and donning a disdainful look. “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy—”

“Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?” Sirius put in, in defense of his friend, who roared with laughter.

The girl straightened, her hair mussed, and her eyes narrowing and darkening, the latter in comparison with her cheeks. Her eyes focused on James then Sirius with distaste.

“Come on, Severus," she remarked scornfully. "Let’s find another compartment.”

“Oooooo. . . ," the two boys said at the same time, in a very high-pitched imitation of the girl's voice. As the greasy boy passed, James stuck out his leg. “See ya, Snivellus!” Sirius called, as the compartment door slammed and both the girl's and Severus's long hair disappeared from sight in the direction that Sirius and James had come from, leaving the two boys in fits of laughter, which, doubled with the arrival of the sweets trolley, greatly increased Sirius's mood, and a game of Exploding Snap began.

//PETER//

Peter had wanted to jump out and insist that he join them.

The two boys, that is. Arguing about a broken pair of glasses.

But he was just too tightly packed into that corner, being shunted this way and that, standing on tiptoes to peer over that older Slytherin boy's head, only catching a glimpse or two of the show they were making before he could muster his courage and- almost ask the boy in front of him to step aside. But he didn't. Instead, he opted to squeeze between the boy and the wall, trying very hard to avoid touching the boy, and subsequently caught and ripped his shirt sleeve on some metal nob sticking out by the window.

So when the two boys began discussing plans to remove themselves from that compartment and walked into the crowd right after Peter had finally been able to view them, he was a little upset. Peter had tried desperately to follow, but instead was jostled away from them and lost them in the stream of students.

"Okay," he said aloud to himself. "If I were them, where would I go..."

A bright idea struck him, and he found himself following the path the other boy, who had asked them to move (very politely, Peter remember) had followed to leave. The other two boys seemed quite interested by him, perhaps because of his abruptness and ability to ignore the situation everyone else was focusing on. Maybe they would end up there?

Peter didn't know why he was so taken with these boys. Perhaps it had something to do with the warmth they seemed to radiate, from all around, like the sun. Maybe not warmth. The shouting match was not warm. It was... excitement. Like a space heater. Maybe it wasn't warmth they generated, in a friendly way that could make you happy, like the sun's rays beating on your face, but it still generated a similar feeling, something that just made you want to be in their presence. Like an electric heater. It was never boring. Being near the two of them made him happy, because he felt involved and liked.

He stopped thinking when he absentmindedly walked directly into a door connecting the compartments. He stopped walking then, too.

A boy on the other side rushed to help him. "Are you alright?" he asked, sliding open the door.

Peter stood frozen. This was the boy from earlier, he realized. The polite one. And stretched across his nose diagonally was a long and bright white gash. Examining it made Peter think it had started on the right side of the boy's face, just below his carnucle, slicing diagonally downwards and across the nose. It was about a centimeter thick on the bridge of his nose and reached an inch below the middle of his left eye, thinning as it did so. It looked at least two years old.

"Yes," Peter replied finally, in a faint voice. "Wasn't thinking." He shook his head to clear his intrigue. "That's not like me," he grinned up at the other boy as he aided him into a chair, relishing in a joke his mother would have surely laughed kindly at, and was surprised to find the compartment alone but for the two of them. "Were you sitting alone in here?" he asked, taken aback. He realized the boy had taken little to no notice of Peter's inspection of the scar on his face.

"Oh," the boy blushed. "Yes, I was just... reading." Peter nodded. The boy said it in a way that made him think he had not been reading at all. "What's your name, anyways?" the boy inquired.

"Peter Pettigrew," he said stoutly, holding out his hand to shake. "Yours?"

"Remus Lupin," Remus replied, smiling tentatively. Peter took the boys hand, and his mouth dropped in apprehension and concern for this very nice almost-stranger when he spotted a long red scratch on the other boy's forearm that was revealed by his robe sleeve sliding up in the handshake. Peter gaped for just a moment before he shook his head slightly and voiced his thoughts.

"Remus- are you- are you okay?" he asked, worry filling his voice.

"Oh-," the boy blushed, "that's just- it was an accident- it- it was my pet rabbit," Remus said, his eyes darting around wildly for some reason. "She doesn't like being held, so when I picked her up she just started scratching me and stuff..."

"Oh!" Peter exclaimed. "You have a rabbit? Awesome! I've always wanted one. Susan caught one, once, or, she said she did, but then she said it got away. She might'a been lying, though, cause she said it leaped through the-"

He stopped abruptly. He briefly wondered if the same thing that had given Remus the scar across his face had given him the scar on his arm before it was pushed completely out of his mind as he realized he had spoken about Susan. His face reddened. He would have to learn to contain himself. He also knew he was rambling, going on about a wild rabbit and his sister's wilder stories. Nobody was interested in that, no one would care. He noticed Remus was watching him with quiet interest, and could not help but wonder if he was feigning it. He cleared his throat. "So- um, what house do you want to be in?"

At this, Remus paled. "Well, I, um... I wouldn't mind Gryffindor, I suppose. My dad's house, but..." He left the sentence hanging, clearly making known his own disbelief for the possibility of him having the attributes of a Gryffindor. "I'm really nervous for the Sorting," he explained.

"Oh, me too! I mean, the whole school's going to be there... I don't know what I'd do if I made it into Slytherin... I'll probably be in Hufflepuff," Peter ended gloomily.

"What's wrong with either of those houses?" Remus asked, the doubt and worry in his voice turning into confusion. He sat down opposite the smaller boy.

"What- you don't know?" Peter said, incredulous. How this boy was a wizard with a Gryffindor father yet did not even know of the horrors of Slytherin was a mystery to him. "Well, Slytherins'll do anything they have to to get what they want, _anything,_  and Slytherin just breeds bad people, my mum'd always tell me. Well- not really, but she'd always talk about the founder in a bad way- Salazar, he hated Muggleborns and such. She'd make hints, and Slytherin, y'know, that guy could talk to snakes! But then my mum'd tell me again it'd be okay if I was in it, that it was my decisions, not my luck, and if I wanted I could-" He froze abruptly. He could not speak about that, he wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't. 

Remus cleared his throat. Gratefully, Peter realized that no one had spoken for about five seconds and that Remus's throat clear ended that gap. His next question posed a subject of new and dangerous conversation:

"So... your mum's a witch, then?"

Peter's ears tinged red. "Well... uhm- ye-yes... She grew up with magic, and she uses enchanted stuff, says they work loads better, but, um, she can't actually- do magic... She's a- a squib." Peter flushed. It had spilled out. He didn't know what on earth made him say it, he was so determined to hide it for all seven years of Hogwarts, but no more than an hour into the train ride, he says it and-

"What's a squib?" Remus asked tentatively, protruding on his thoughts. Peter let his mouth fall open.

"You- you don't know?"

Remus flushed and lowered his eyes. "S-sorry-"

"What are you sorry for? It's- it's a person with magical parents that isn't born magic at all. There's- there's half squibs, too- a Muggle or a squib parent and a wizard parent, but no magic kid. Magic is usually inherited, if a parent has it. I thought-," he blushed and finished quickly, "I thought I was a squib for the longest time..."

"Oh," Remus paused. "That's a bad thing, isn't it?"

Peter was incredulous. "Of course it is," he said softly. "I- I keep hoping-" he stopped. He could not bear voicing this particular fear aloud. If Susan was not a witch- no. She's seven, and he didn't reveal his magic till eight.

"So," Remus cleared his throat. "Um... So what's your dad?"

Peter cringed. Family was a sore spot. "Wizard. I've never met him, and Mum doesn't talk about him much. I think he started dating my mum, figured out she was a Squib, and left her before anyone could find out what he did," he remarked sadly, then paused a moment before asking, "You?"

"I'm a half-blood."

"Muggle-born mum or dad?"

"What? No, Mother is a Muggle. Father is a wizard."

Peter straightened. "Wait, so you're really a half-blood? Like a true one?"

Remus nodded, confused and apprehensive.

"Wow! Wow, you must be the only one in our year! You might be the only one in the school!"

Remus nodded, a dark tinge appearing on his cheeks. Peter stared out the window as the seconds turned minutes and silence reigned. After a while, when Remus was safely buried in a book, Peter turned to him. He watched his eyes move quickly across the pages, obviously always missing the white scar that marred his face right between his eyes. He wondered what on earth could have caused that (there was no way a bunny could) until curiosity became too much and-

"Remus?"

"Mm?"

"How did you- how did you get that scar?"

"Oh, that one?" Remus's tone quickened. He did not look up, but his eyes stared rather fixedly at one point on the page. "I told you. It was my rabbit." 

"No, not the one on your arm. The- the one on your- face." Peter's voice shook at the last word. Maybe he was overstepping his boundaries. This was his first friend, and he had ruined it. But what if Remus never thought of them as friends? He was much smarter, he truly was, and-

"It was an accident." The other boy's voice was sharper, slower now. He looked up, and his eyes- blue- pierced Peter's. His words sounded monotone and harsh. It scared Peter. He had thought Remus kind, sincere. "I was driving with my mother in our motorcar, and a drunk driver crashed into us from behind," Remus continued. "She was unhurt, but a piece of- of the glass on the headlight gashed my face."

"Gosh- I- I'm so sorry- Remus, I truly am sorry, I didn't mean-"

Suddenly Remus's eyes were soft, guilty, sorrowful. "No, Peter, really, it's okay- and I was younger, I hardly remember- it's okay, I just- I don't like to talk about it. Okay?"

Peter nodded. "Okay." But for the next ten minutes, Peter could dwell on nothing more than the thought of this fragile child in such horrible pain to leave such a lasting mark.

"Remus?" Peter asked.

This time, Remus looked up immediately. "Yes, Peter?"

"Are we friends?"

Remus smiled warmly. "Yes, Peter."

Despite that calm reassurance, after Peter looked down, content and immersed in a comic book, Remus whispered a faint question to the stale air: "Are we?"

//JAMES//

The castle was coming ever nearer, but Sirius's sleeping form had remained still for the last half hour. James was very tempted to play a joke on him, but he had been well warned (not unkindly) by his mother against such behavior. That doesn't mean he would listen, of course, but the least he could do would be to hold off until they got to Hogwarts, wasn't it?

Maybe just one little prank. A simple hand-in-warm-water?

James produced his wand eagerly but quietly and stopped. He didn't know the charm for that. He wasn't even a first year yet!

The old manual way it is, then.

He adjusted his newly repaired glasses and ruffled his hair back before carefully stepping out of his compartment.

Where was the bathroom in this place?

He had wandered around for a couple minutes, almost losing track of where he had begun, before he gave it up as hopeless. Might as well just ask an older kid, right?

He stared out the dark window for a moment, trying to figure out how much time was left before they reached the castle before turning and colliding with the waist (and, the, um... upper parts) (how unfortunate James's eleven year old height is) of a girl with butt-length and shiny light brown hair, a mixture of red and brown, and her eyes were the same. Her skin was a creamy pale, and everything about her screamed "royal". Upon finding James, her eyes narrowed and hardened. He tried not to run, for he recognized the girl from earlier. She was the same one Sirius had run from. 

James cleared his throat awkwardly and attempted a light grin, ruffling his hair back and attempting to seem in control. "Oh, hello!" he said, voice dripping with politeness. "Very sorry to run into you. Terrible of me."

She simply stared at him, cold eyes following his every movement with a bit of curiosity behind them. He coughed.

"Yes, again, sorry about that. You wouldn't happen to know where the bathroom is, would you?"

James then realized he was making an effort to talk a few octaves deeper than normal. He stood tense, waiting for her response. Would she dismiss him, or entertain his ridiculous efforts to get on her good side?

Finally, she spoke. Her voice was much kinder than her appearance. Her eyes softened.

"I know where the girls' one is, don't I?"

He stepped back. James was not expecting that. 

"I suppose that's true, but would you mind taking a guess at where the boys' would be at? Or maybe you could just fill up a, um, cup, with warm water- or maybe you could just conjure one-"

"May I ask your name?"

Taken aback by this, he rallied easily and smiled. "James Potter. And you?" Why was he so formal? He could kick himself.

It would have taken very precise and attentive sight to notice this, but James had that sight. He saw the girl's eyes widen and mouth drop almost imperceptibly before she returned to her posture and answered with a swift, "Andromedra Black." Then she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving James to ponder that conversation all the way back to the compartment. Unfortunately, he did not know his new friend well enough to remember his last name, therefore Andromedra and Sirius remained, in James's mind, unconnected.

Upon his return, he found Sirius sitting up and, ironically, drinking a glass of water in a paper cup, hair tousled. James stopped.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Bathroom. We're here, you know." Sirius jabbed a finger out the window towards an indistinguishable mass of lights and reflections. The train lurched to a start. James stood for a moment.

"I ought to get changed, oughtn't I?"

Sirius smirked. "I suppose you ought to." He clapped James on the back before standing and turning to gather his robes before the other boy could spot his quick, dreading look out onto the grounds, towards the castle.

After changing, they exited the compartment with the mass of students that seemed to be drifting towards large carriages trotting forward on their own accord. He turned to follow until Sirius caught him. "You are a first year, aren't you?" he spoke into his ear due to the commotion outside, and gestured towards a large (that is to say,  _large_ ) man wearing a black traveling cloak and a blacker beard.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

The two followed the steady steam of younger students toward a dark and merciless looking late. The water was still, and the children crowded at its lifeless edge before the calm was broken by ripple.

"Righ'!" the man said, turning their attention towards him. "We're gunna cross this lake by these boat here, yeh got it? No more 'an four to a boat, and mind yer moving, yeh hear?"

The two boys, along with all the others, most of whom were complaining of something or other, made for a rowboat. 

"Watch it, that's my foot!"

"I was here!"

"No, take that one, we'll meet up at the castle."

"D'you know how they sort the students?"

"Oi, you! You got me wet!"

This last comment was directed at Sirius.

"Sod off, you lazy git..." he muttered in the general direction of a tall black boy James knew to be Walden Zabini, heir of a rich wizarding family.

Finally, they found peace in a dingy and small rowboat, waiting for the command to move, when-

"Ugh, it's these prats," Sirius told James without bothering to lower his voice as Severus and the red-haired girl lowered themselves into the boat.

Severus narrowed his eyes, sneered, and turned to leave at the sight of them, but the girl held him back. "Why should we be afraid of the two of them, Sev? Show them who's in charge."

Grudgingly, Severus sat as far from the other two boys as possible.

"Ooh, yes, Snivellus! Do stay! It'll be ever so much fun!" Sirius cooed mockingly.

"Yeah, Sniv. Show us who's the gaffer, why don't you? We're just _waiting_ for someone to do it!" James cried.

The boats began to cross the lake of their own accord.

The girl started. "Just ignore them, Seve-woah."

Suddenly, over the cliff broke a dazzling display of light and a huge (that is to say,  _huge)_ castle erupted before them.

"Wow," James uttered softly. It was all he could manage.

There were hundreds of turrets on which hundreds of stone griffins sat, each griffin holding a lantern that dimly illuminated the starry night. There were probably thousands of windows, and in each window sat a single candle. The brick looked ancient and majestic, and there were at least five large towers. Pale bird shaped figures (owls, James knew) fluttered around one tower, stretching their wings or finding their dinners. All the lights were reflected in the lake and a great amount of noise came from the entrance. The entire thing looked so incredibly grand and- there was just the one word that would fit it perfectly: magical.

He turned to look at Sirius and saw millions of tiny lights from the castle reflected in his eyes but heard no sound emerge from his lips; he was speechless.

As was Severus.

Sirius did not say one word as they exited the boat. He did not say one word during their trek up to the castle. He did not say one word as they waited in the Entrance Hall. Before James knew it, the time that he had waited expectantly for Sirius to speak had passed so quickly that they now stood and listened (James did; Sirius was still in awe) as a stern looking witch named McGonagall lectured them on the rules of the castle.

Sirius had still not said one word.

And then they were in the Great Hall, encompassed by older students, waiting to be sorted, and Sirius stood with his mouth half open. torn between terror and, still, awe. McGonagall rushed forward with a stool and a hat, whose brim turned into a mouth and sang.

And then an old man with graying hair began to read the names of the students aloud to the school.

"Abbot, Miles," his dreary, weak old voice sounded out.

Sirius had still not said one word.

A timid boy with delicate blond hair at the front of the line stepped forward on shaking legs. Moments later, the hat called out:

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Still, Sirius had not spoken.

"Anthony, Bell..." the man trailed off, and his head nodded. Crisply, McGonagall hastened to the man's side, who seemed to have fallen asleep standing. She helped him into a chair and began to read.

Sirius was silent.

"Bell, Anthony!" she shouted.

A pale boy with soft brown locks ushered to the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Black, Sirius!"

Sirius froze.

"Go on," James prodded him. "Sirius, go."

He shoved him forward and the boy tottered for a moment before regaining his balance and striding toward the stool as if he owned it. But he was shaking.

And then James spotted Andromedra Black watching him curiously from a bench whose banner portrayed a snake. And it clicked. Oh, he would so kill Sirius.

And James watched him plop (not really a plop- it was a very stiff one, if it could be considered a one at all) onto the stool, though his hands gripped its sides tightly. His eyes were squeezed tight. Finally, after some ten seconds longer than the other two, in which Sirius seemed to be having either a mental argument or a very bad headache...

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The room burst into whispers.

"A Black?"

"Gryffindor?"

James exhaled a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Git," he muttered. "Blimey, he made me worry."

"Bones, Amelia!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And so it continued.

~

James found his attention drifting in and out during the next thirty children's Sorting, attention caught and held for a few moments after a few people. First, he learned that the red heads name was Lily Evans. She became a Gryffindor, and this was met with creepily sad looks from her greasy friend. The second, Izar Lovegood, skipped merrily up to the hat without a worry in the world. He was sorted into Ravenclaw and followed by Remus Lupin, who became a Gryffindor and was followed by Walden Macnair II, who was sorted into Slytherin and was followed by Leanne Malkin, who was.....

James started. He was next. Almost. How had the minutes gone by? This was easily the largest first year class in a long, long time.

"Pettigrew, Peter!" the stern teacher called.

A short and portly boy stepped quickly up to the hat. He was white in the face.

I'm up soon, he thought. Very, very soon. Any second now.

But thirty seconds passed, and the boy still sat their, a terrified and focused look upon his face.

Anytime now I'll be up.

One minute passed.

Now two.

Any second now.

Two and a half.

Blimey, this is taking forever!

The minutes totaled four, and the hat had not twitched. James kept an eye on the large and grand wizarding clock in the center of the wall.

He remembered what his father had said about a Hatstall. If a person is on the stool for five minutes or more, they are a Hatstall. They happen because the hat doesn't know which house to put then in.

Four and a half...

Five.

Five and a half.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat finally shouted, triumphantly.

James ambled up to the stool.

Then he realized she hadn't called his name.

"Potter, James?..."

He was already halfway there. Too late to go back now. The room began to laugh, quietly. He winked. But, oh Merlin, he was dying inside.

He found Sirius. Sirius laughed silently, but winked back.

James sat confidently and casually (he hoped, remembering Sirius's attempt at nonchalance) and placed the Hat upon his head.

He started as a voice spoke in his ear. _James Potter... Fleamont's son? My, he was brilliant. He didn't make Sleekeazy's Hair potion without brilliance, though, did he? Yes, he came to ask me about it. Asked what I thought. I said it was brilliant. It was the truth, wasn't it? Though, I do think he snuck into the headmaster's office to ask me... But yes, your mind. Let us see..._

James tried to imagine his father, who had always followed the rules, sneaking into the Headmaster's office.

_Plenty of brilliance, your father's old charm..._

He knew he could top that performance. In fact, he was determined to.

_Oh, you have a fondness for trouble making, do you?_

James smirked. Yes.

_And you don't back down, I see._ _You've got all the traits for a Gryffindor, and more, you know. Courage, nerve, chivalry, intuition, natural skill...'_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

He yanked the hat off his head and grinned at the room around him. It suddenly seemed much brighter. _A_ _ll the traits for a Gryffindor, and more,_  he recalled. It was the best compliment he had ever received.

As he sat down next to Sirius at the table above which hung the silk banner portraying the Gryffindor lion, he had never felt more confident. He leaned over and winked at the other boy once more and asked, "So, when's Quidditch tryouts?"

"Yeah, okay, whatever. Just 'cause you feel like you're on top of the world right now doesn't mean you are," Sirius muttered. "So what'd the hat tell you?"

"Just that I'm the greatest wizard this school has ever seen. You?"

"Just that I'm better than you."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"No, it didn't."

"Yes it did!"

"Really."

"Yes! It told me, 'James Potter will come to you saying that I said he was the best. This is a lie. You are better than him."

"Okay, but what did it actually say?"

"Do you really think I would lie to you?"

"Yes."

Sirius looked at him with a pout on his lips. "But I'm serious!"

"I know you're Sirius, but you're also a liar."

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"Merlin, this is the most futile conversation I have ever heard!"

The two raven headed boys looked across the table to find a blue eyed girl with long brown hair glaring at them. She had a posh accent and looked extremely miffed.

"And what business is this of yours?" Sirius politely inquired, imitating her voice.

The girl smiled, evilly and condescending. "Oh, it's only that I'm sitting, why, less than two metres away from you and you're not exactly whispering."

"And why should we?" James put in rudely. Then, deciding to comply with the fake politeness that was suffocating the conversation, he pretended to sweep a hat off his head and acted out an exaggerated bow before holding out his hand to shake. "James Potter, by the way," he said, in the same overly exaggerated imitation Sirius used when copying her tone. "And you?"

The girl looked down her nose at his hand, choosing to ignore the gesture. "Abigail Mitchell," she replied scornfully.

"Well, Abigail," Sirius put in (still in the accent), "Oh, and yes, I am Sirius Black, the greatest wizard you will ever meet, but anyways, Abi- may I call you Abi? Yes, Abi-"

"Stop calling me that."

"Anyways, as we will be spending the next seven years here together, I think we should start off on the right foot, shall we not?"

"Top notch idea, Sirius!" James said.

She began to grind her teeth. She looked positively infuriated. "Would you stop- imitating- my- accent!"

"Mm..." Sirius rubbed his chin. "I don't know... What say you, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, I should think not, Mr. Black."

"There you have it, Abi! My deepest condolences, but the consensus is no."

She stared at the two of them unblinkingly, before sighing and turning away. "You two are merciless."

James smiled at Sirius. "That went well."

"I thought so too!"

~

An hour later, James found himself trudging up a long series of staircases and down hallways behind a tall prefect named Edgar Bones. They were led up to their dormitories and he was delighted to learn he shared with Sirius. There were also two other boys named Peter Pettigrew (the one that he remembered to be a Hatstall) and Remus Lupin. The former was very attentive of them (he seemed very eager, like he was anticipating their every move) and the latter seemed finicky and shy, avoiding looking at James and especially, he noticed, Sirius. He remembered him from the train, but Remus was in his bed with the hangings drawn around him within five minutes.

"Oi, Sirius," James called, suddenly remembering a certain thought just before shutting off his light. "You never told me you had a sister!"

"I have a sister?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, you dolt, I met her on the train. Anomidra Black? Something like that. I dunno."

"Oh." Sirius now sounded curt. "That's Drommie. She's my cousin."

"Why didn't you tell me about her? She seemed okay. What about any other cousins?"

"I'm going to bed now, James."

"Oh. Good night, then."

"Good night. Good night, Remus!" Sirius called, directed at the bed opposite him whose curtains were shut, though twitched a little bit once Remus's name was called. "Good night, Peter," Sirius told the boy that sat on the floor, taking off his slippers.

"Good night," Peter said.

Minutes later, James lay staring up at nothing in particular. He was prepared for the next seven years. Well, maybe not prepared, but excited. He could not wait.

A/N

Finally finished the chapter! Took me so long. I only had thirty minutes intervals to write, though, but still. And it's sloppy and bad, I know, but... yeah. Enjoy! Please comment! Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

chapter to be continued


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